


hands & lips (still know their way around)

by arrow_through_my_writers_block



Series: shades of frustration [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Comedy, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Gratuitous Smut, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Makeup, Masturbation in Shower, Memories, Olicity Sex, Oral Sex, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Comedy, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, smut with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 21:45:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrow_through_my_writers_block/pseuds/arrow_through_my_writers_block
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The work to rebuild the lair means many hours spent together, and Oliver slowly begins to see a trend in Felicity's makeup choices and each shade sends him spiraling into flurries of flashbacks until all he can wonder is whether or not she's trying to tell him something...</p>
            </blockquote>





	hands & lips (still know their way around)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OhhMyyDarla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhhMyyDarla/gifts).



> Everyone can blame my pal @OhhMyyDarla for this one! She prompted me (and also made the banner!) with loads of lipstick shades and their naughty names. Enjoy!

 

It hadn’t escaped Oliver’s notice over the years that Felicity had an affinity for vibrant lip colors - in fact, it often made his life difficult. She would stare up at him and move her lips in the sexiest of ways, forcing his eyes down and his mind reeling toward the proverbial gutter. And in the weeks since the team had disbanded and the two of them were left to pick up the pieces, Oliver had noticed even more color. A new color every day, it seemed.

He watched her as they rebuilt and remodeled the lair - the Arrowcave, as she liked to call it.

When she concentrated, she often bit her lip, almost sucking on it depending on the intensity of her task. She’d bite down on pens and bring her mouth into a perfect, almost vulgar circle. He was losing it. Slowly but surely, he would go completely insane. And it was made worse the moment he asked her one question.

“Felicity?”

She turned, ponytail whipping through the air. It was still shorter than when he had first met her, but he loved it just the same. “Yes?” she asked, pushing her glasses higher onto the bridge of her nose. A red pen was clutched in her hand. He wondered if she realized what she was holding - did she remember the significance?

“Would you like to attend the Inaugural Gala with me?”

Her eyes widened and he knew he had to have fucked up. It was too soon. He was forcing things.

“You want me to go with you? To the Gala? _The_ Gala?” She scratched her head with the back of the pen, nose scrunched in confusion and something similar to shock.

“Yeah,” he whispered, feeling let down.

“You really want me to go with you?” She moved closer, staring up at him.

He nodded. “Of course.”

Slowly, a smile spread across her hot pink lips and her eyes softened from nervous and suspicious to excited. “I’d love to, Oliver.”

He grinned, unable to stop the butterflies that had been building up in his stomach the moment the words had been spoken. Her acceptance was a shock, but a pleasant one. A hopeful one. He nodded once more before turning away, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven-thirty.”

 

<<>>

 

He was getting used to wearing a suit all the time. It felt like an eternity since his stint as CEO of Queen Consolidated, and the suits hadn’t lost their stiffness and air of importance. And he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt when Felicity caught a glimpse of him - he knew all too well how much she enjoyed the suspenders he wore beneath the jacket.

And he couldn’t deny how beautiful she was as she walked down the stairs of the loft. The loft they had once shared. The loft that had seen so much sorrow - it was a wonder she still called it home.

She glided down the stairs, green sequin gown trailing the steps and hugging her curves. She was breathtaking - not that she wasn’t in every other situation, but she definitely knew how to wear a dress.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured as he opened the door and she stepped by him, the scent of her rose and vanilla perfume wafting around him. He breathed it in and sighed. Oliver fought the urge to let his eyes drift down to her swaying ass.

They rode in a limo, much to both of their distaste. It was silent. Felicity’s hands were folded in her lap, resting atop her clutch and Oliver fiddled with the index cards lined with the words he had written up for his inaugural speech. More of the same. More promises he was unsure whether he could keep. More dreams and ambitions. For a moment, as the limo pulled up to the venue, he wondered if his parents would be proud of him.

They exited the limo to a barrage of photographers and press. Oliver resisted the urge to let his hand rest along the small of Felicity’s back - if he let his hand fall that far, he’d have a hard time controlling where it might go next.

They mingled among the city’s leaders, plastering on smiles that felt altogether fake. But no one seemed to noticed and no one questioned them about their relationship. They were there together. They were together. The media could make of that what they wished. But Felicity kept a healthy distance between them. The distance of friends… close friends. Nothing more. The obviousness of her placement sent a pang of hurt through Oliver, but he shook it off.

They moved to the bar and ordered drinks. As the bartender rushed to fill the order - diving into cabinets to find a strong vodka for Oliver - Felicity ducked away toward the bathroom, leaving her clutch behind. “Felicity…” Oliver began, grasping the clutch to hand it back to her. But it was too late. She was gone. Just as he went to set it back on the bar, something clattered to the floor, rolling to rest against his shoe. He bent to pick it up. Her lipstick. He tossed the tube from hand to hand, rolled it around in his palm.

Then the name came into view and his heart began to pound.

_I’m Nude._

He wasn’t prepared for the words. He wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of vivid fantasies that sparked in his brain. He wasn’t prepared for the question that raced through his mind. _Is she naked beneath that dress?_

He remembered a time on their trip around the world when they had gone out for a fancy meal and ended up moving to a club full of sweaty bodies and pulsing music. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that beneath the tight black dress, Felicity had been naked. Nothing had covered her perfect curves and enticing skin. His hands had roved and explored until they had escaped into their rental car for the roughest sex he had ever instigated in a vehicle.

His mouth was dry and his hands were sweating. The bartender slid their drinks along the bar and Oliver took his glass without hesitation, downing the cold and bitter liquid in one gulp, letting the alcoholic heat scorch his throat. _Fuck. She’ll be the death of me._ He eyed the lipstick once more, the name shining and taunting him. _Is she doing this on purpose?_

Felicity returned just as he slipped the tube back into her bag, letting the clasp click into place. They chatted and mingled with more of Star City’s upper crust. But all the while, Oliver was nursing fantasies and memories he had tried so hard to ignore.

 

<<>>

 

The next day, Thea came to visit them in the lair. Despite her need to be away from the vigilante lifestyle, she often came by to see progress on the remodel and to give her two cents.

Felicity had arrived with, once again, a new shade painted onto her lips. A vibrant red. Luscious. Sexy. Alluring. Oliver fought the desire to pin her to the wall and devour those lips until it was uncertain who had worn the color first.

Thea chatted with Felicity while he engaged himself with the rearrangement of the training equipment. With only one fighter remaining, he had to train alone. It wasn’t new to him. He had spent so much time on his own to build himself up… it wouldn’t take him long to get back into that old routine.

The two women in his life were seated in front of the computers, watching some cute video Thea had recommended. They giggled and swayed giddily in their seats. Then Felicity retrieved her lipstick from her bag. Oliver watched as Thea eyed it.

“Is that Urban Decay? _Sixty-Nine_ , right?”

Felicity nodded as she applied it to her lips.

Oliver stopped what he was doing. His body stiffened and his heart pounded as a flush crept up his body. The number floated in the air, electrifying every inch of space around Oliver as he let his gaze fall onto Felicity. She was facing away from him, her hair down in loose curls and shoulders wrapped in a black and white sweater. She was wearing jeans and a pair of her signature heels. In any other circumstance, he might not have thought twice about how gorgeous her casual look was. But now, with the number lingering around and playing on repeat in his head, everything about her was intoxicating.

And once again, as had happened the night before, his mind played a memory he had fought hard to suppress.

It had been late at night. He had been sleeping, though not deeply. He never slept well, not truly. He awoke to Felicity’s hand stroking his cock, fingertip gliding along the vein. He hadn’t expected it, and he of course had not complained. But once her lips lingered along the tip, tongue snaking out, he knew what he wanted.

If she wanted to taste him, then he wanted to taste her. Fair was fair.

He grasped her naked hips and tugged her about, maneuvering her until her most secret places were in full view, enticing in every possible way. He admired the view as she laved and sucked at his cock, sending thrills of pleasure through his body. His fingers explored the line of her thighs, probing the warmth held between, admiring every inch of her body. He parted her legs more and stroked her with his fingertips until his tongue came out and sunk in, following the rhythm she had created.

She sent him into perfect bliss, letting her tongue dance even as she moaned against his sensitive flesh. Each spasm of ecstasy from her dragged him ever closer to the edge until his whole world ceased to...

“Earth to Ollie,” Thea’s voice cut through, sending him reeling back into reality.

His hands were gripped tight around a bo staff, shaking with the intensity.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice small. Guilty. Exposed.

“We’re gonna get some Big Belly Burger. Do you want to join?”

He glanced between the two women, one the subject of all his dreams and the other his sibling, then shook his head. “No, thanks. I have lots of work to do around here.”

“I’ll bring you something,” Felicity insisted. “Your favorite?” Her grin was bright, her lips a beacon of sexuality that matched his lust perfectly. He nodded in response and she grabbed her purse, tossing the lipstick into its depths. “Be back soon.”

As the elevator door closed, Oliver wondered whether he would survive much longer.         

 

<<>>

 

Oliver found her in the electronic store, khakis hugging her ass and polo so snug on her torso. It killed him the moment she had explained how little money she had left after helping to rebuild the lair - money she could have used on anything else. She had kept the loft, but at much detriment to her personal finances, and then began working at the store once again.

He recalled all those times he had bothered her in the middle of her shifts, demanding her expertise or some sort of hack. Now he refrained from any such interruptions. He was a new man. He could figure it all out on his own if necessary, though he knew Felicity could tell if he had been poking around on her babies - somehow he left tell tale signs every time.

He walked through the aisles, eyes glued to her profile as she helped a customer decide between two almost identical keyboards. He came up beside Felicity and winked, eliciting an almost imperceptible glare and then her ponytail whipped at him as she turned to ring the customer out at the register.

That’s when he heard it. A small plop on the ugly carpeted floor. He glanced down to find a lipstick tube. _Not again…_

He attempted to stifle a groan as he bent and grabbed the tube, fingers wrapping around it delicately. He opened the lid and twisted the bottom to find a bright, creamy pink shade. It reminded him of the color she had worn the day he first met her, officially. And so many times after that. Throughout their years together, she had worn such a shade numerous times, harkening back to that awkward exchange in her cubicle, full of lies and innuendos and terribly timed jokes.

He bit back a grin.

Oliver twisted the stick back and clicked the lid in place, then turned the tube on its head. The name on the bottom stared up at him, sending thoughts and memories through his mind like an attack.

_PDA._

He recalled all the moments he and Felicity had fought to keep their public displays of affection in check, sneaking quick kisses here and there. Nothing too extreme. Nothing to make the team want to puke. But their little touches were like fire - small torches spreading flickering heat from their fingertips. Their stares, lingering and intense, were hard to break. A day at the lair could result in the remainder of the night being locked in lustful embraces on any surface sturdy enough to brace against their fervor.

He looked up, feeling guilty and somewhat embarrassed as Felicity rushed around to gather more products for the difficult customer. He couldn’t bother her and he didn’t want to with the heat radiating throughout his body, knowing all too well how easily Felicity recognized his horniness - she would pick up on it the moment their eyes met.

So he left, pocketing the lipstick and forsaking the reason he had come to the store in the first place.

 

<<>>

 

It had been a long day and long night. Felicity had worked a double shift and then rushed to the lair to run her regular diagnostics. Oliver had been stuck at City Hall, locked in meeting after meeting with officials and constituents, silently praying for the end of it all, but it went well past midnight.

When he arrived at the lair, Felicity was gone. A note was attached to her computer explaining her fatigue. _I fell asleep on my keyboard. I may have drooled a bit - no… a lot._

The frantic, embarrassed words made him smile, recreating her voice in his head. Every tone. Every syllable. He could hear everything without distortions, and that fact caused him much heartache.

Her every habit was caught in his brain with memories and fantasies… all too painful. And lately, with all of her little flirtations and lipstick shades…

He went to the bathroom at the back of the lair, hell bent on showering - to rinse away the stresses of the day and enjoy what little silence he could achieve. But her voice was still in his head, babbling and rambling and panicking over unexpected innuendos. He grinned as he reached into the shower and turned the nozzle until the stream of water created steam, clouding the room and fogging up the small mirror above the sink. He went there, staring into the blurry depths and breathing in the humidity. Then he looked down.

In the bowl of the sink, Felicity’s small backpack rested, topped with random bits of clothing and makeup. And of course, a tube of lipstick. _How many goddamn lipsticks does she own?_ He thought back to their trip around the world and their numerous pieces of luggage. He had never seen that many tubes. He had never seen so many in his life, honestly. Even when they moved to Ivy Town, he hadn’t seen so many. And then the loft… nothing. _Where the fuck are they coming from?_  

He grabbed the items, balancing the tube of lipstick on the clothing. His eyes locked onto the name… plain as day and forceful in its insistence.

_Please Me._

His heart began to pound and his skin grew hot with the mixture of words and steam billowing around him. He dropped everything and stripped down, his mind racing with so many jumbled images - memories that continued to plague him. He was wound tight. Pulled taut. Pent up.

As he stepped into the scorching shower, he could almost hear her moaning. That sweet sound that thrilled him and satisfied his eagerness to please. And then, as he closed his eyes, he saw a time in a shower much like this one.

In Bali.

Her legs were wrapped around his waist like a sleek vice, heels of her feet digging into the small of his back with each thrust he made. One hand was locked around her wrists high above their heads, the other gripped tightly at her hip, pressing her against the tiled wall as a cascade of water drenched them. Each drop sent shivers up and down his spine as the sounds mingled with her moans and whimpers, his tongue lapping at her skin and her perfect, pebbled nipples.

When he looked up he could see her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, droplets of water trickling down and down…

His lips collided with hers in time with his thrusts, her inner walls clenching around him in a beautiful rhythm to match. They were perfect, locked together in his most favorite embrace.

Oliver opened eyes as the pleasure rolled through him, his hand circling his cock… up and down, squeezing to mimic her perfect muscles until all he could do was give in to the sensations leading him to much needed relief, all the while wishing he could be back in that shower in Bali.

 

<<>>

 

It happened again three days later. A brightly colored lipstick tube rolled the entire expanse of the ramp that led up to the command center, clicking against the ridges of grip tape and clattering against the concrete floor upon reaching the bottom. Oliver groaned and closed his eyes, mind still reeling from every other time he had dealt with her loosely packed makeup.

But he wasn’t quite as tightly wound. Some of his frustrations had been satisfied, though a hand wasn’t much of a replacement for Felicity’s glorious body.

_Fuck._

He bent down and retrieved the tube, caught in a state of nervousness and excitement. It didn’t take much for him to daydream about his past - _their_ past. And he certainly didn’t have a great filter when it came to the most intimate memories. But when he twisted the lipstick to catch a glimpse of the name, his nerves fell, quickly replaced by terror and something akin to worry.

_Intoxica._

The scene began playing without warning.

The foundry had been overrun by a strange green gas, sweet in smell but burning to inhale. It hadn’t taken long for the clouds to overtake the entire basement, wrenching Felicity away from her computers even as a search was running to track the culprit. Oliver was out, searching for the source of the attack along with Digg, forced to listen as Felicity slowly suffocated on the fumes.

“Stay with me, Felicity!” he screamed, feet off one roof to another. “Felicity?”

“It… burns… hurts…” Felicity gasped out between coughs.

“Fe-li-ci-ty, stay with me. Stay low to the ground. Find somewhere clear!”

“I am. I’m trying.”

Oliver halted his progress then, heart pounding. Digg stood beside him, brow furrowed. “I don’t know, man. The toxins are all over the city. If she can’t find the origin point, I’ll bet we can’t.”

Oliver nodded. He knew their only hope was Felicity’s computers - the results of that search. “Felicity,” he whispered, kind and pained and full of worry. “Felicity, I know it hurts. But you need to check the screens.”

A string of coughs flooded the comms and Oliver’s fists clenched in helplessness. But then her voice spoke clearly, if not slightly raspy. “Corner of Fifth and Dumont. Little shack.”

As they ran, they heard nothing from her again. He prayed she was simply conserving her oxygen, waiting for the toxins to dissipate, but the worry fueled his frantic pace. Within minutes, they reached the shack, shrouded in noxious gasses that stung their nostrils and blinded them with green. But they dismantled all of the machines sending signals throughout the city.

Oliver raced back to the foundry as Digg searched for other leaks, evading panicked Verdant patrons until he was running down the metal steps into the lair.

Felicity was beneath her desk, sprawled out and motionless. His heart plummeted as he took her into his arms, feeling for a pulse.

Faint but there. Her breaths were shallow and gravelly, but the simple fact that she was still breathing thrilled him and calmed his worry. But he held her like that until the last of the emerald fog disappeared, brushing strands of hair from her face and admiring the courage she had shown. And not just in that moment, but in many.

“You okay, Oliver?”

Her voice broke through the intensity of the memory and he found her standing in front of him, hand tugging on his.

“Uh, yeah…”

Her brows rose above her glasses and her head tilted to the side. “Then can I have my lipstick back?”

He released it, letting her fingers take possession of the tube. “Sorry,” he murmured, watching her walk to the elevator, heart heavy from the terror the memory had revived.

 

<<>>

 

Sometimes he drove through Ivy Town, just for the hell of it. For the peacefulness and the picturesque neighborhoods. Sometimes he’d even stop by their home - a home they had never sold and he hoped they never would.

It was still furnished with the rustic pieces they had spent weeks picking out for the downstairs, but the lack of electricity left the rooms dark and far too silent.

On one trip, he ventured into the bedroom. It was empty but for a dainty vanity and dresser. Atop the dresser were some old papers, notes to one another they hadn’t felt the need to take with them back to Star City.

Next to the mirror on the vanity was a little tray. He remembered it being full of her jewelry once upon a time. But now it was occupied simply by a cluster of bobby pins and, _of course_ , an old tube of lipstick.

_I just can’t escape it, can I?_

He ran his fingers over the pins, then rotated the tube to display the name. It was one he had picked out for her when she’d asked him to choose, along with others. A bright fuchsia with a hint of purple.

_Men Love Mystery._

But she had only worn it once for him. At home. In bed. As a villain.

He dove into a memory almost unwillingly, fearful of it, recalling the evening he came back from a run to find the lights out and the back door open, a trail of debris strewn across the kitchen floor. He went on high alert, eyes locked onto every shadow and every potential hiding place.

Then he caught sight of the note on the kitchen island. He picked it up and squinted in the low light.

_You’ll find what you’re looking for in the bedroom._

His heart pounded. It was Felicity’s handwriting, but something was odd about it. It caused his mind to go into overdrive with possible scenarios. He grabbed a knife from the knife block and edged toward the stairs. She could be dead already. She could be tied up. She could be anywhere else but their house. Felicity could be long gone in more ways than one. His hand began to shake, forcing him to halt at the bottom step to regain composure.

Once his hand stilled, he made his way up the stairs and then into the bedroom. The lights were dimmed and the bedroom was an absolute mess as if a fight had broken out. And there, standing at the foot of the bed, was a woman in black. Black leather with seams stitched with bright pink and purple. A black mask with pointed edges sticking out like vicious crown shrouded the woman’s face in mystery, but there was no way to hide that body.

“Felicity?” he asked, jaw clenched and an anger rising in his chest, threatening to break free.

“Your Felicity is not here. It is me you want.”

Those first two words struck an unwanted cord, harkening back to the fear he had felt moments before giving Felicity the serum to bring down Slade. They were the same words Slade had spoken.

“Felicity, stop,” he hissed out as his fists clenched.

“Your little IT girl isn’t here, but I can promise you a good time. Unless you’d prefer a fight…?”

“Felicity! Stop!”

“Make me, Mr. Queen.”

His fists went out swinging, colliding with the nearest wall and shattering the paint and plaster and everything between. He hadn’t felt this in so long, the unbridled fear and rage. The helplessness of the island mixed with the overwhelming weight of all his losses. “Get out of that fucking costume, Felicity. I’m not joking.”

He was trembling. All over, his body was on high alert and he edged out of the room.

“Oliver, please. I’m sorry…”

He could hear her words and sense her following him, but he couldn’t break free of the dread and anger. “Felicity, stay away from me… just for a bit.”

“But-”

“Please…” His voice was small as he let his head rest against the wall on the opposite side of the upstairs hallway, just beside a photo of them in Disneyland. “Not now…”

“I just thought you’d like a little roleplay… a little mystery to spice things up.”

He relaxed slightly, understanding the absurdity of the situation even among the jumbled mess of his feelings. He let out a tiny chuckle. “I don’t need a roleplaying session with you, Felicity. I just need you.”

Oliver shook himself out of the memory and tossed the tube of lipstick back into the tray. With a deep gulp to stifle his pain, he left the house entirely, promising himself not to come back. But he had said that to himself time and time again…

 

<<>>

 

“Oliver, listen to me! You need to turn back. You’re gonna be overwhelmed.”

Her voice in his ear through the comm was panicked and irritated. He grumbled out an affirmative and turned around, heading for higher ground to get back to the lair. The thugs weren’t easy to lose. He disarmed a particularly bold one within seconds, grinning at the satisfying crack of his wrist when he twisted it around just before knocking him out cold.

He jumped from rooftop to rooftop, feet landing with gentle thuds followed by the hiss of leather rubbing together with each stride. Then he heard it. A sound outside his own movements. The cocking of a pistol. He spun around to see one thug, large and imposing, standing at the far end of the roof he was currently traversing.

“You can’t get away, Green Arrow.”

“I think you and I both know it’s more than likely that I will.”

The thug laughed. “The bullet in the chamber says otherwise.”

He dodged just as the thug pulled the trigger. He rolled his eyes and pulled out an arrow, nocked it and released. _Why do they always give away their next move?_

“Are you okay, Oliver? I heard a gunshot!” Felicity asked just as the arrow hit home, sending a ring of rope around the thug, immobilizing him.

“Fantastic. Be there in a few minutes.”

The moment the elevator doors opened, Felicity’s arms were wrapped around him tight, her warmth enveloping him. “I really hate you not having back-up!” she mumbled into his chest. He glanced down to see her eyes closed and orangey-red lips turned up in a smile of relief. He felt her tenseness fade against him.

“I’m fine,” he whispers, letting his arms snake around her and his head rest atop hers. “You’re my back-up.”

For a few moments, they remained that way - locked in an embrace that oozed with everything they pretended to ignore so often. But it was there, warm and demanding… almost painful. A tangible force between them. And as she pulled away a few inches to look up at him, the warmth turned to a scorching flame and he was keenly aware of the curves of her body pressing against his. He fought the urge to lean in and press his lips against hers.

She pulled away completely, letting his hands fall from her body, the space around him growing cold in her absence. “You need _physical_ back-up,” she said as she turned her back on him and raced back to her computers. She typed a string of commands and grinned. “It appears the thugs have been apprehended thanks to your interference.”

“Of course they were.” He winked at her when she glared.

She picked up her bag, dug into it and retrieved a mirror and tube of lipstick, touching up the shade lining her lips. He sat next to her and glanced up at the tube. He could barely make out the name of the shade, and it reminded him instantly of the sensations of a moment ago.

_Slow Burn._

He looked away, watching the police camera footage of the thugs’ arrests. _What a fitting name,_ he thought with a sigh.

“Everything okay?” she asked, brow raised as she sat beside him. She reached out and patted his knee. The contact sent a shockwave of heat coursing through him that intensified when her hand remained there. After a moment, she glanced down at her hand and pulled it back quickly. “You were awesome tonight. No need to act so broody.”

He nodded. “You’re right.”

But deep down, he didn’t know how else to react to the feelings and sensations roiling around them, heating and pulsing into life. It was slowly consuming him.

 

<<>>

 

They were out at Big Belly Burger. Just the two of them.

It had been a long time since they had been out in such a capacity together and Oliver felt odd sitting across from her, burgers and shakes on the table between them. They were halfway through their meal when Felicity pulled the straw out of her milkshake and licked the length of it, not even looking at him. She was in the middle of a story about her latest spat with a coworker at the electronic store and she didn’t seem to notice what the action looked like. It was simply a small interruption. She always did that, for some reason.

His heart stopped at the movement of her bright pink lips and luxurious tongue. He followed their shape, memorizing as she licked them and then continued her story. And then it hit him. A memory.

They had been at a fair in some backwoods town between one big city and the next, enjoying a funnel cake and the fresh country air. Powdered sugar was caught along her lips, enticing him.

“You have some sugar on your lips,” he whispered with a chuckle.

“How fitting…” she said, licking at her lips.

“What do you mean?”

She took another bite of the funnel cake and grinned. “The lipstick I’m wearing is called _likable_ ,” she said around the bite, sugar sprinkling her lips once more. She swallowed the bite and took a sip from their cup of lemonade.

“Mmm, definitely fitting,” he murmured, then leaned down and caught her lips with his, letting his tongue snake out to taste her sweet lips before slipping into her mouth.

The memory sent a pang of longing through Oliver. It was almost too much. He fought to keep himself from lunging over the table to devour her lips with his. He almost didn’t manage it.

 

<<>>

 

The patrol was horribly boring. Nothing was happening despite Felicity’s assurances that there was a lot of activity near the center of town. But nothing. Just a quiet, overcast night with him riding around on his motorcycle in circles.

“Felicity,” he said into the comm as he made his third circle. “There’s nothing here.”

“That can’t be right…” he heard her mumble, irritated. Then he heard the tapping of her fingers on the keyboard. “Rooftop of the building at the corner on your left… Seems to be a sushi joint. That’s odd. It isn’t like they’re affiliated with any known criminal organizations and every-”

“Felicity,” he interrupted. “Is it possible that your systems need some adjustments?”

He heard an audible gasp into the comm. “I can’t have heard that correctly… Are you insinuating that my babies aren’t up-to-date?”

He pulled into an alley behind the building and parked, kickstand out and balancing the weight of the bike as he shut the motor off. “No, that’s not…” He sighed. “Okay. Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

“How _dare_ you!”

“Isn’t it a possibility?” he asked as he hopped up onto a fire escape, climbing the rusted metal with ease until it cut off abruptly. He jumped up and grabbed at the edge of the roof, pulling himself up.

As he climbed up and over onto the roof, Felicity let out a insulted snort. “No. It is _not_ a possibility, Oliver. And you should know better than to ask that.”

He held up his hands in defense despite the fact that she could not see him. “Calm down. It was just a suggestion. Forget I even mentioned it.”

He looked around. The expanse of the building was clear but for the occasional ventilation system and air conditioning unit. He closed his eyes and brought his hand to his brow, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Felicity, there’s nothing here.”

He heard her groan. “Okay, hold on.” After a moment of furious typing, she said: “Oops, wrong building.”

“Felicity! What is going on?”

“Nothing. I’m just… not a hundred percent tonight. I recommend grappling over to the building across the street. The big one.”

He opened his eyes and looked up at the skyscraper, the top of which was shrouded by low, wispy clouds and fog. “You mean the bad guys are at the top of _that_ building…?”

“Yep,” she answered with an anxious, apologetic chuckle. “So… uh… get to grappling.”

He sighed and retrieved the one grappling arrow she had packed for the night and felt something strange. An extra weight along the shaft just before the fletching. He looked down to find a thin tube of liquid lip color. The shade within was light and the delicate design on the packaging stared up at him tauntingly.

He would recognize it anywhere. He had bought it for Felicity on a trip to some cosmetic store she preferred. He remembered her asking him to pick out a lipstick and set him loose. He saw this one and picked it without hesitation the moment he saw the name.

_Bow N Arrow._

Now he was certain nothing was amiss with Felicity’s computers and that nothing was glitching in their security and GPS systems. She was sending him on a fake patrol. She was waiting for him to find the lipstick. She was waiting for him.

Just him.

He turned and went back down the way he had come up, finding his bike undisturbed in the alley. He started it, shutting off the comm system so he could be alone.

All this time. All the innuendos. All the perfectly christened lipstick shades.

She had been telling him something and he had been too dense to truly realize it - he had been too afraid to act. She wanted him. She wanted _them_.

The city sped by him as he accelerated, allowing the wind to fight through the leather and cool his scorching skin. He could have been back in her arms long ago. He could have devoured her lips and lost himself in her body dozens of times over, but he had been so blind… so afraid.

He pulled into the lair, the bike’s revving echoing off the walls. He cut the engine and didn’t bother with the kickstand; the bike collapsed onto the ground with a crash and he didn’t care. He heard her heels clicking against the floor, growing closer and closer in time with his heart. The lipstick was in his hand, gripped tightly in a fist that threatened to crack the tube. She rounded the corner and stopped. He studied her for a moment and pulled his hood down, brow raised.

The lipstick on her lips was not the shade he held in his hand. It was lighter - a very pale pink instead of a creamy nude. He walked over to her and dropped the tube as his hand reached up. He let his gloved fingers caress her lips, eliciting a low moan from her throat as her eyes closed and her head tilted to the side in pleasure. The sight made his mouth go dry and his skin heat further.

“What shade is that?” he asked, voice raspy with his rising lust.

Felicity opened her eyes. Her pupils were blown and her breath was coming out in short pants as she stared him down. Her lips parted. “ _Virginity_ ,” she whispered.

As the word floated between them and her pants continued to beat against his fingers, his heart raced faster. The word meant so much. It seemed so fitting.

It had been so long since they had been together and they had endured so much. He wondered if it would even be fair to let himself go and take what he so badly desired. But then he looked into her eyes and saw that same desire reflected back at him, demanding satisfaction. And he had to give in.

He closed the short distance between them, letting their lips collide and their bodies crash together, her dress against his sturdy leather. Her lips were just as intoxicating as they had always been. Full and warm and sweet. He had missed them.

Felicity’s hands roamed over his body until he felt her fingers close over the zipper and tugged, letting the armor slowly open and fall away. He reluctantly moved his own hands away from her body to unlatch the vambraces and shoulder guards, then slipped each glove off until everything clattered into a pile on the floor at their feet. His black shirt and leather pants remained, along with the mask around his eyes. He didn’t care. He only wanted her.

He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close to him as their lips melded together until he wasn’t certain where his mouth ended and hers began. Their tongues reached and danced and explored anew, tasting what they had missed for months. Guttural moans left their throats and as his teeth nipped at her bottom lip, she hissed. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure if he had harmed her. But then she was glaring, eyes on fire with the same lust that had swelled in her ravaged lips. “Touch me,” she ordered, bringing his hand down and beneath her dress until he felt her naked flesh, warm, wet and inviting. “ _Fuck me_.”

He hesitated no more. He let his fingers delve between her legs, pressing against her clit with the pressure he knew would set her even more aglow. And it did. Each push and rub swirl sent her writhing against him and her lips slanting against his to connect further. He slid his hand deeper between her legs, palm grazing her and fingers caressing… teasing.

And then they stepped backwards, toward the wall. Her back hit it roughly but it didn’t keep her from tugging at his shirt until he was forced to leave his occupation. The shirt joined the pile behind them and her hands got to work on his pants, the leather tight against his erection. As she pulled the zipper down and freed him, he reached beneath her dress with both hands, cupped her ass and lifted her. Her back scraped against the wall and hit the light switch, drowning them in blinking red emergency lights. He didn’t care. It matched their pounding hearts and the heat running through his bloodstream.

Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and then he pressed himself against her heated entrance, staying there for a second, savoring the anticipation that shivered through her body. Then she gripped the back of his neck until all he could do was look into her eyes with each flare of the lights. “I said… _fuck me_.”

He slid home, her body tight and clenched around him. It had been so long. So damn long and for a moment the intimacy overwhelmed him. He remained still and let her inner walls relax around him until all he could do was thrust, unable to resist.

His hands gripped her ass, forcing her body closer and his deeper. She nipped and licked and laved at his neck and lips, sending him toward the edge, but he wasn’t ready. Nowhere near so.

Oliver pulled them away from the wall, his cock buried deep and walked them to the glass table out in the main room. He cradled her as he laid her there, skirt folded up and spread out to expose their joined bodies. The moment her body relaxed against the glass, he grasped her hips and thrust once more, beginning the rhythm again. Her hands scratched at his chest and then her arms wrapped around his body, tugging him forward until their chests were pressed together, faces close. Their panting breaths and fevered moans meshed as their hands met, fingers lacing erotically. With each thrust of his hips, her fingers twitched, tightening, nails digging into the backs of his hands.

He let one set of hands drift down, allowing her to guide his fingertips where she may until she, once again, began to writhe. They kept that pace until she met her orgasm with a scream of his name and a clench of her inner muscles that sent him spiraling toward the edge seconds after.

He rested his head against her chest and listened as her heartbeat slowly evened out. She ran her fingers through his hair like she had done so many times before and it hit him. For a few seconds, it felt as if nothing had changed between them. As if the last few months hadn’t happened and they weren’t finding their way back to one another - it was as if they had never parted ways.

He lifted his head and caught her eyes just as a tear slipped from her lashes and down the side of her face to splash against the glass, shining with each flare of the lights. “I’ve missed you so much, Felicity,” he murmured as he kissed the tip of her nose.

She grinned. “Took you long enough…”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re really dense sometimes. You had so many opportunities to take the hint and jump my bones and you didn’t do it.”

He laughed then. “Well, I finally did. That’s what matters.” Then he brought his lips to hers, tenderly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Oliver Queen. Now let’s go home for round two.”

**Author's Note:**

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